Chapter Text
Another breeze makes its way across the plains and has Andrew squint against the curtain of curls blowing into his face, and he drags a hand through his hair to push them away, but his fingers become tangled in the mess. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, prying them out with some effort.
Earnestly amused, you look at him from the corner of your eye, fighting the chuckle that builds in your throat. “You okay?” you query, humour in your voice, and he huffs.
“It’s the wind,” he complains, “Yesterday’s rain made it all damp. It didn’t dry properly overnight and I haven’t had the chance to take care of it yet.”
You smile and let out a small hum. “I could help you with that,” you suggest, “I’ve got a comb on me.”
Andrew’s eyes widen. “Really?! You would? I-I mean, I mean, sure! Yes, please!”
Your grin grows. “Alright,” you pipe up, “Tonight at the fire, when we’re settled down. I could even braid it for you.”
The comment makes his cheeks flush. “That’s… Very nice of you, (Y/n). Thank you.” His voice is softer now, a tad abashed. Simon seems to pick up on his brother’s flustered state and rushes further to the front to catch up to you, clapping a palm onto his shoulder blades.
“Hello, brother dear! Well well, isn’t that wonderful! She might as well shave it all off, with the mess it has been lately!”
“Not funny, Simon,” Andrew sighs, tensing up.
Simon laughs. “I’m only kidding, Andrew. Come on man, cheer up! I’m rooting for you.”
Embarrassed, Andrew glares at his brother and grunts, causing the man in question to raise up his hands in defence, slowing his pace already to return to his original position next to Thad and Little James, “Just saying, just saying…”
When he turns back, Andrew notices you’ve already started a conversation with Ramah and Mary, and he rolls his eyes in annoyance about Simon. If he hadn’t interrupted, he might have been courageous enough to speak to you for longer than a minute at a time. Hearing you laugh with the other women makes him lift his chin and straighten his back, his gut pleasantly stirring.
The three of you discreetly glance over your shoulder at Andrew before Ramah leans closer and whispers something in your ear that makes your cheeks flush, and both her and Mary burst out in a fit of giggles at your shy expression.
Andrew bites the inside of his cheek and swallows thickly, trying to determine the time of day.
He can barely wait until tonight.
_
You truly look breathtaking in the warm light of the fire, so the fisherman can barely tear his gaze away from you. After your shared meal, you chat with Matthew for a while before your eyes suddenly meet his, taking Andrew by surprise.
He blinks rapidly, snapping out of his thoughts before he clears his throat. The small smile you send his way sends a swarm of butterflies throughout his system and he has to brace himself on the log he is sitting on, trying to gather enough confidence to speak to you. You, however, have already stood up from your seat and are making your way over to him. His heart flutters inside his chest, panic building as you approach.
“Hi, Andrew,” you say, taking a small comb from your apron. You have been fingering it in your pocket for a while, trying to find the perfect moment to come to him and fulfil the promise you’ve made him whilst travelling today. He lets out a small sound before responding.
“Ah, hi, (Y/n).” he breathes, flustered.
“May I sit behind you?”
“Huh?”
You smile softly. “So I can untangle your hair.”
His mouth falls open. “Oh– Oh, yes, of course!” Abashed, he slips to the ground so that you can seat yourself on the log behind him, getting comfortable. You dare to put your hands on his shoulders to have him lean back, a soft hum leaving his lips at the contact.
“Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding.
You let out a small sound. “Okay, just tell me if it hurts, okay?”
“I will.” he promises.
Your comb starts at the bottom and you slowly work your way up - at least, that is what the plan is. Instead, it catches onto a few unruly strands, already stuck within the first stroke.
You click your tongue. “Huh… Sorry about that. Maybe this isn’t the best way to go at it.”
Andrew wants to open his mouth to tell you that it is alright, that you don’t have to do this and that he can deal with the problem himself, but is left speechless at the sudden feeling of your fingers against his scalp. Deft, agile digits that softly card through his curls, careful, considerate.
The words die on his tongue. He tries to give the unfamiliar feeling a place, but fails. The way you drag your hands through the coils in an attempt to disentangle the thick locks is utterly relaxing, especially with the warmth of you behind him, and he has to fight the sound of appreciation threatening to fall from his lips.
“That’s better already,” you sigh, enjoying the way the disorderly mop of black mane starts to listen to your advances, bouncing back beautifully on his shoulders. “Would you mind me applying some oil? That would make it easier and also a little softer.”
Andrew looks over his shoulder to look at you. You’re wearing the most beautiful smile and he feels his throat run dry. “Of-Of course!” he breathes, “Go ahead, by all means!”
You get up to grab a flask of almond oil and sprinkle some onto your palms before starting to work them through Andrew’s hair. He huffs and can’t fight his eyes fluttering shut, the sensation of your touch against his scalp simply incredible.
It is nice to be this close to him, you think to yourself whilst rubbing the split ends with oil to see if you can somehow fix it. You’ve been struggling with hiding your little crush on the former fisherman lately, and now that you’re practically performing a very intimate act for him, it’s even more difficult to keep it under wraps. Ramah and Mary had been the only ones who knew about your feelings for him, but now a lot more of Jesus’ following seem to catch on.
“Hey (Y/n), you braid everyone’s hair now?” Philip jests from across the fire. He is only teasing, you know, but you cannot fight the blush on your cheeks.
Andrew frowns, “Hey, that’s not what this is, Phil!”
“I know exactly what this is, my friend.” Philip counters with a wink, “And good for you. It was getting rather painful to watch the two of you avoid each other out of embarrassment.”
You nearly choke on your own spit and feel your face heat up. “What do you mean by that?”
Philip chuckles. “You’ll learn that eventually, (Y/n). All I can say is that I’m happy for you.”
Scoffing, you roll your eyes in an attempt to force back your blush, but to no avail. Even worse, the butterflies in your stomach are only increasing the longer you’re working on Andrew’s hair.
“What kind of braid would you like?” you quiz with a voice way shakier than you intended, “I’m ah, I’m thinking two small ones and bind them together on the back of your head, like this?” You take two strands and position them in the way you’d make them.
Andrew hums. “I trust you, (Y/n), so yes, yes!”
“Okay.” you murmur, starting on the braids that you’ve so often made in your own hair. “This will keep it out of your eyes whilst we are roaming the plains.”
He lets out a small sound that you cannot quite place, as if he’s too shy to verbally answer, and you tuck the locks into neat little braids, starting over a few times – perhaps on purpose – so that the moment doesn’t end too soon.
You can only keep up the act of being just friendly for so long, so you eventually bind them together behind his head and draw back your hands, smiling. “There you go.” Andrew immediately shifts to face you and he smiles, a pleasant fluster on his cheeks, and he tries to find the proper words to say. Mary gives you a knowing grin from a few logs away.
“Thank you, (Y/n),” Andrew whispers, bringing up his hand to feel at it, “I really, really appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome.” you tell him, wiping your hands on your apron. He stands and dusts down his tunic, attempting to feel confident in your presence.
An arm is wrapped around his shoulders and nearly knocks him off his feet. Jesus smiles, patting Andrew on the shoulder, nodding in recognition of his new hair.
“That looks very good on you, Andrew.” He says.
“Thanks,” Andrew breathes, clearing his throat and pointing at you. “(Y/n) helped me out.”
“I just witnessed that, yes.” Jesus winks at you and smiles, “Are you available for more clients? I would like it very much if you did that for Me, too.”
Averting your gaze, you look at your lap a little shy. “If You would like that, Teacher, then I’m open to—”
“I was only playing,” Jesus muses, “But it does look good. Very nice work. You two stay safe tonight. Keep the first watch together, hm?”
Andrew and you lock eyes and you feel excitement bubbling inside your chest. “Of course!” you say, causing Jesus to grin and pat Andrew’s shoulder one more time before He moves away.
“Excellent. Most are turning in soon, so prepare what you need.”
“Of course, Rabbi.” Andrew states, watching Him walk off.
You stand and take a deep breath, looking at him. “Shall we, then?”
Andrew gives a small nod and smiles, happy that he’s getting to spend a few more hours with you.
“Yes, let’s.”